"One command tells me to obey
you, — the other tells me to obey God."
Childish as the answer was, there was truth in it; and Mr.
Randolph shifted his ground.
"Your mother will not be satisfied without your obeying the
lesser command — nor shall I!"
Silence.
"She will expect you to do next Sunday evening what you
refused to do last evening."
Still silence, but a shiver ran over Daisy's frame.
"Do you know it?" said Mr. Randolph, noticing also that
Daisy's cheek had grown a shade paler than it was.
"Papa — I wish I could die!" was the answer of the child's
agony.
"Do you mean that you will not obey her, Daisy?"
"How can I, papa? how can I!" exclaimed Daisy.
"Do you think that song is so very bad, Daisy?"
"No, papa, it is very good for other days; but it is not
holy." Her accent struck strangely upon Mr. Randolph's ear;
and sudden contrasts rushed together oddly in his mind.
"Daisy, do you know that you are making yourself a judge of
right and wrong? over your mother and over me?"
Daisy hid her face again in his breast; what could she answer?
Mr. Randolph unfolded the little palm, swollen and blistered
from the marks of his ruler.
"Why did you offend me, Daisy?" he said, gravely.
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